


Dark Side of the Moon

by DesertRose07



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Cheating, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Manipulation, Mind Games, Organized Crime, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertRose07/pseuds/DesertRose07
Summary: The Awakusu-Kai has been patient with your father long enough. When they finally come to collect their dues, Shiki never expected to find such a treasure buried in the home of a drunken man; you never expected to find yourself in a life of crime. When word gets out about Shiki's young civilian wife, Izaya's curiosity is piqued. Yes, heknowstaking interest in a married woman iswrong, possibly even lethal considering that she happens to be married to one of Ikebukuro's deadliest mob bosses. But then again, Izaya never could resist a challenge.Shiki x Reader x Izaya





	1. Homecoming

 

Ikebukuro's glittering nightscape whizzes by you, skyscrapers catching the last rays of the dying sun as your taxi hurtles forward. It's the first time in seven years you are returning home since going off to high school and college in a secluded, rural town. Of course, the countryside had never really appealed to you, but as soon as your mother passed away in a car accident, your father immediately insisted that a change from the bustling city was necessary. Shipped you off to the sleepy town of Kusatsu the day that middle school ended. It was a quaint life, you supposed, attending small classes tucked away in lethargic green hills. It would do for a while, this slower pace of life. The folk were decent. Hospitable and humble to a degree that seems all but extinct in these times. You made a couple of friends, had grown to like your talkative roommate. Nevertheless, the incessant chirp of the cicadas you once enjoyed has begun to grate on you. The simple, modest routine- wake up, go to class, study, make supper with friends, go to sleep- is getting old. There is too little to do in those isolated hills. These pastures are now your jail cell.

 _Exactly_ why your father had sent you in the first place.

"The city is too dangerous," your father had insisted. "The people are not so kind as in the country. It's for the best."

 

Greeted by chipping paint, you're dropped off a few paces in front of your home, just on the outskirts of Ikebukuro. You wonder how you'll appear to your father, whether you've finally grown into an adult in his eyes. Whether your younger brother will finally respond to you with  _deference_ ; you may be the firstborn child, but your also the most reserved. You've always... _appreciated_ at the audacity of your younger brother, envied it, at times. It comes naturally to him, coddled as the _family's beloved **son**_ as he is. Squinting, you fish through your purse for you keys and it slowly dawns on you that it's darker than it should be.

 

The porch light is out.

 

Odd, considering that it's well into the evening, and your family knows to expect you. Glancing up, you realize the curtains have been drawn tight. Even the edges of the cloth appear dark; you can't make out any source of illumination from the living room. The house is absolutely silent. Slowly, panic starts to bloom, not enough to overwhelm you but just enough to send the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Something isn't right here. Quietly as you can, you slide the key into the lock. Turn the handle. Add the slightest bit of pressure when it doesn't work.

 

Bolted. Someone from the inside will have _to_ -

 

A gust of air as the door. _**Vice-like**_ pressure on your arm. Before you can register everything, the door has been thrown open by a massive man you've never seen before. You only have enough time to register the deep scars carved into his face before you're wrenched forward into the silent darkness. You scream your heart out, but none of the sound makes it past the hand clamped down on your chin. Against your increasing thrashing, he bodily drags you deeper and deeper into the quiet house.Hallways that once were familiar, _nostalgic_ even, feel like alien landscape, devoid of life. Each shadow you encounter seems to hide a vicious threat. Even the ticking of the grandfather clock seems to count down to a sinister secret. Your mind floods with a million nauseating scenarios, the thousands of petrifying fates that could have awaited your family. Await  _ **you.**_ Panic has now evolved into pure terror, pounding through your veins with each shaky beat of your heart.

It's a tiny thing. Most guests to the house overlook it, easy to miss if you don't know what your searching for. You haven't entered it for ages, this ancient wooden door under the stairs. Back in the day, you were the undefeated champion of hide-and-seek, the only one among your cousins brave enough to forge beyond that door and into the shadowy basement.

 

That door may be the last thing you ever see on this earth. Only minutes before you were an ordinary college student coming home, like any other. Now, you would become just another crime statistic for people to weep over then forget about.

 

Tears spill down your cheeks. 

 

As you're hauled down the creaking steps, your eyes are assaulted with a splotch of _**red.**_  Before you can catch any other horrors, you slam your eyes shut, shuddering. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, low and dull; the chirping of the cicadas you once found so annoying has never been more welcome. 

 

"What was it, Aozaki?" 

 

It's a gruff, deep voice, one that commands respect. Expects  ** _unquestioning_**  obedience. 

 

"A girl. Likely his."  You're dumped at  _Aozaki's_ feet to demonstrate. 

" ** _Girl_**?" Cold, spindly fingers pinch your chin, snapping your eyes open. With surprising gentleness, you are submitted to his exam. Jaw turned to the right. Then left. Face tilted up beneath the flickering lights. 

"Never mentioned you had a _daughter_ ," the man drawls. "Am I to assume that you wouldn't care what should befall her?"

Steeling your nerves, you finally glance around the room. Huddled in a damp corner, your brother is bound and gagged, guarded by two well-dressed men. You've seen suits before, but not like _this_. Tailored. Pressed. Fabric that would feel like air against your hand. In the center of the basement is your father, forced onto his knees. With the brassy overhead light, his skin appears mottled. Blotches of crimson, large enough to be rose, adorn the  hollows beneath his eyes. 

He gurgles out a response from behind the gag, before leaning forward to hack out the red bubbling forth. Shuddering, you turn to find your examiner watching you closely. 

Pulling his pristine ivory trousers, he lowers himself into a crouch. There's a stillness to his dark eyes, a depth that suggests they go on forever. His gaze bores into you, unabashed, like you're the only other living thing in this crowded basement. "Hardly a wonder that he's hidden you from us," he murmurs. The back of his finger traces the curve of your cheek, ice-cold. Slips back under your chin. "What's your name?"

"(F/N) (L/N)," you mumble, struggling to hold his gaze. You've been raised to _**avoid**_  openly staring like this, taught that it's rude and shameful and inappropriate. This man hardly seems the type to like meekness, however; perhaps if you can return that piercing look of his, show him your mettle, he'll show your family clemency. 

" _(F/N),_ " he repeats, testing out the sound. He still hasn't removed his hand from your chin. "And what do you do, ( _F/N)-san_?"

"S-student medicine," you stammer, words jumbling together under the crushing weight of those dark eyes. "That is to say I'm studying to be a doctor." 

" ** _Doctor?_** " he crows in delight, glancing around to see if his associates have also heard the striking news. "Nothing like your deadbeat father or that good-for-nothing brother of yours, are you? Must get it from your mother."

Surprise overwhelms fear in that moment, spurring you forward. "You knew my mother?" you gape. 

His answer comes in the form of a tight, wistful smile, but he says nothing. Your heart starts to sink. Suddenly, your tongue feels like cotton. You're starting to think you'd rather not know who these men are. 

As if he hears these terrified thoughts, he slips into a slight bow.  "Haven't even introduced myself. Forgive my manners," he says cordially. "Shiki Haruya, current Wakagashira of the Awakusu-Kai."

 

 _Wakagashira_.

 

_Awakusu-Kai._

 

Did you hear him correctly, over the thundering of your heart? Because if you _**did**_ , neither you, nor your father, nor your brother will never see the light of day again. This man is the first lieutenant of one of the most feared criminal syndicates reigning over Tokyo. The sort of power that can mould laws to personal fancy, that can buy politicians to keep as pets. 

Shiki breaks out into a toothy grin, the most nerve-wracking thing you've seen thus far. "It appears our reputation proceeds us. Your father owes us quite a bit of money, (F/N)-san. A _**reckless**_ position the wretch has dragged his children into.  _ **Revolting**_ , like a beast that devours its _young_."  

This is the first you are hearing of any debt. Much less a  _massive_ one. Much less one owed to  _criminals_. Your father may be flighty and irresponsible, but you never _dared_ to think he could be so foolish. Could jeopardize all of your lives so easily. 

"Haruya-sama, I-I can't explain how sorry, how ashamed I am, for the burden my family has imposed on your business," you blurt, the words rushing out of you. "I'm very sorry. Spare our lives, and I will pay it off as soon as I complete medical school. Sooner even, I can get a part time job as a tutor-"

He cuts you off with a finger pressed against your lips, the cool metal of his ring pressing into your skin.

"How do you like that? The  _daughter_ must act as a guardian for her moron of a father!" he hisses in contempt, glaring at the bloodied pile of flesh in the middle of the room. "Abandoning such a dutiful young lady to plead to the whims of the yakuza? _**You**_ should be the one who is ashamed, not _her_!  _ **Disgusting**_."

"Haruya-sama p-please," you choke, eyes welling up. " _Please_ , allow me to carry my father's debt. I am hard-working, persistent. I will return your money,  _please-"_

"Someone with as bright a future as yours, crippling their potential for the sake of a miserable drunk?" Shiki demands, sweeping an arm towards your father in disdain. 

Taking in a deep breath, you fire back your response. "Drunk or not, he's _**family**_."

Again, those eyes watch you, dark like coffee. Over your father's increasingly desperate protests, Shiki gradually mulls over your offer. By the time he arrives at a decision, the tears have long since dried on your cheeks, your father has long since been thrashed into quivering submission. 

 

When you finally hear it, it's the last thing you are prepared for. He's marveling at you like you're something wondrous, an exotic creature of legend.

 

"Such a tender heart," he whispers, soft enough that even you need to strain to catch the words. "Untainted by the filth of this rotting city." 

 

Rising to his towering height, he spares your father one last glance. "I'll forgive the wretch's debt, but I also won't be unloading his faults onto to _you_."

You accept his extended hand and Shiki draws you to your feet. Relief washes over you, before giving way to rising concern. This man is a Wakagashira, not a monk; forgiveness is not in his nature. Avoiding your pointed gaze in favor of surveying the havoc around him, Shiki strides to the center of the room. Drives his nails into your father's scalp. Turns him about with all the delicacy of a wolf handling a slab of meat.

"So long as they refrain from inciting the wrath of the Awakusu-Kai again, your family will remain alive and unharmed. I give you my word. But in exchange for this show of mercy," he pauses, allowing those soulful eyes to find yours. "You will promise yourself to me." 

"P-promise myself?" you stammer, dazed. "To **_you_**?"

Like a reanimated corpse, your father springs back to life, flailing beneath Shiki's grip. Even your cowardly brother cries out from behind his gag. Words dart through your mind like frenzied wasps.  ** _Impossible_**. An elite yakuza executive is in your basement, holding your family hostage and offering their lives in exchange for your loyalty. **_Absurd_** , the more that you try to wrap your head around it. This has to be a nightmare, a byproduct of the cheap frying oils used for your lunch, and you're really still in the taxi cab, nodding off against the window-

A patient hand hangs in the air, waiting for you.

"(F/N)-san, I realize this is sudden, but I'm a man of discerning taste, one who knows well what he wants. So...at the risk of being forward...would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"


	2. Moon-Flower

When at last you give the men from the Awakusu-Kai your answer, your father openly wails. The sound creeps up the stairs after you while you are instructed to pack one- _and only one_ \- small suitcase of personal belongings. Haunts you as you give your brother a shaky kiss on the forehead. Chases after you as you're ushered out the door and into the plush, leather backseat of a dark car that whisks you away. The long, sorrowful notes follow you down the road, around the corner, until they simply can't keep up with the growing pace of the whirring tires. 

The weeks you should have spent relaxing on summer break, reuniting with your family after so many years away from home, are instead given to the Awakusu-Kai, living in the Haruya compound. 

 _Compound_ , is perhaps too gentle a word. The building is entirely plain on the outside, a bland, nondescript two-story facility. Thick, waist-high concrete runs around the perimeter of the compound, studded with armed guards. With that level of protection, it almost reminds you of an embassy if it wasn't so depressing. But once you remove your shoes and step past the small entrance hall, another world awaits you. 

Fine cherry wood walls welcome you into the foyer. Their shelves bear precious artifacts from across civilizations, likely expensive and even likelier _stolen_. Murals with a dizzying attention to detail dance across _fusuma_  sliding panels. White orchids curve in the corners, bathing the air in a soft, serene scent. These are the only details you are allowed to appreciate before two of the men who came with Shiki-sama begin urging you forward. Up one of a pair of staircases that unite in a balcony overseeing the foyer. Led through a labyrinth of corridors, past a locked door and into _another_ balcony overlying a small, shaded courtyard. 

These are to be **your** quarters, they explain to you. An entire wing dedicated to _you_ , forbidden to anyone without the explicit permission of Shiki-sama. Only you, he and whoever he deems worthy of becoming your bodyguards will have a key card to access the area. 

 

Soft, afternoon light peers through the canopy. A splash catches your attention.

 

For a moment, you allow yourself to become lost in this quiet oasis. Drowning out the bodyguard's words, you descend the staircase, stride out onto the cool stones and towards a small pond encircled by a rich crown of reeds. Scales glimmering like gems, the koi dart away at your intruding shadow, hide in cozy crevices. 

You hold a breath. Then another.

Slowly but surely, your stillness draws them out, luring them to center where they swirl in graceful arcs. Artful though they might be, their beating tails can only take them to edge of the circle and no further. 

 

Perhaps these koi understand you better than the guards can, your only true companions in this beautiful, empty compound. 

* * *

Three weeks of painted panels and cycling koi and two silent bodyguards before you start to lose your mind just a little. Exploring  _your wing_ informs you that, besides your boudoir, the courtyard, a laundry room and a modest kitchenette, there is nothing to else find here. Hands desperate for something to do, you bake pastries and fatten up the bodyguards: piles of warm peanut amanatto, daifuku rice cakes filled with red bean paste and green-tea flavored dango build in your little workspace until the sight of even one more grain of flour threatens to turn your stomach. You have read and re-read the one medical textbook you brought with you; any more time with your nose buried in its pages and you'll have every last word of  _Principles of Cardiac Physiology Vol. III_ emblazoned onto your eyes. Paced the perimeter of the wing until you can walk it with your eyes closed. 

There are no letters from your family. No news. Besides the housekeeper, who doesn't dare look you in the eye no matter how you try to cajole her, no one has entered your wing of the Haruya compound. Not even your **_betrothed_** makes an appearance. No change in pace, and you start to think this will become the remainder of your existence, a pretty purgatory. Tea and mochi balanced on a tray, you finally persuade the bodyguards to procure you an audience with Shiki-sama. 

If the guards thought your treats any good _then_ , it's nothing compared to effort you invest **now** , tracking every step with meticulous detail. Simmering the beans  _just right_ , so that they'll melt in his mouth when he cracks open your blossom-shaped  _wagashi_ cakes. Grinding the matcha powder into silky dust,  whisking it into a delicate froth. With each cramp in your weary hands, each ache of the joints, your fury at this imprisonment grows. Elite executive or not, how _**dare**_  Shiki Haruya keep you here like one of the illegal exotic pets that his beloved Awakusu-Kai traffics. 

When the first lieutenant of the Awakusu-Kai finally arrives, however, you have a demure smile painted on your face. You don't know much about the yakuza way of life, but if there's one thing you  _do_ know, it's that cunning will serve you better than force. Knees folded beneath you, you keep your gaze lowered until he crosses the room to you.

Tall and imposing as ever, you catch sight of his shadow long before he approaches. What strikes you, however, is  _how_ he approaches you, padding on the _tatami_ mats as if they are a fragile sheet of ice. As if what awaits him is not the fiancé he abducted, but rather a tigeress waiting to lash out. 

Your anger evaporates as you study him closely,  surprised to see him so...

_flustered?_

 

He avoids your eyes. Concentrates on smoothing the exquisitely cut lapels of his suit jacket. Purses his lips into a tight line as he hands you an elegant golden package.

 

Belgian truffles. Imported. Kind, but unnecessary....the gesture softens your heart, but just by a margin. 

 

"So soon..." Shiki-mumbles as he accepts the bowl of tea you hand him. "I thought this would be a bit forward for a lady of stature such as yourself."

 

Your hand jerks in midair, halting your bowl's journey to your lips. "Pardon?"

 

Coffee-brown eyes dart to you, excavate your expression. Hunt for your true intentions. But now this has you wondering about  _his;_ what exactly did he think this meeting was for?

Your stomach flip-flops. Clearing your throat, you retrain your focus on your goal.

"Thank you for the generosity you have shown me, Shiki-sama. Shown my family," you begin, smoothing your skirt over your knees. "But after this week, our break from school will be ending... what are, er, _our_ plans for me to finish my schooling? I need to return to Kusatsu to complete my medical degree."

"You wish to labor elbows-deep in filth and phlegm?" he snorts in derision. "Whatever for? Anything your heart yearns for can be provided for you here."

A roadblock, expected but nevertheless disappointing. Swallowing, you try again. "Thank you, again, but this isn't about material gain... it's about accomplishing a dream I set for myself years ago. Surely, an ambitious man like yourself can appreciate that?"

Smoke curls from his bowl, rising to obscure his eyes. "Yes, a man _can_. A woman has no such obligation to prove her worth, as does a man."

Nostrils flaring in indignation, you struggle to reign in your frustration. _**Blood, sweat and tears**_ you poured to get that acceptance letter to medical school; you'll be damned before you surrender it without a fight. It appears it's true what they say about the wives of the yakuza: seen, but not heard. You need to find some way to appeal to him, to navigate these antiquated tendencies of his. 

"Perhaps not an obligation... but a  _passion_ ," you murmur, peering up at him through your eyelashes during this last bit. Just the right bit of coy, Lean forward, allow a rosy blush to color your cheeks. Brush your palm over his knuckles. " _Please_ , Shiki-sama...I wish to be useful to you. Educated, _**worthy**_ among your associates. Nothing would make me happier."

Eyebrows furrowed in consternation, he contemplates this. Your plea is alien to him. Nothing like the requests of the other yakuza wives, drowning in furs and diamonds and silks while never bothering to ask where the money that bought these luxuries came from. 

"If it truly means that much to you, I suppose something can be arranged," he mutters. "...but returning to your previous identity is _**absolutely**_ out of the question; I've made a thousand enemies in Tokyo alone, much less the rest of Japan. They could easily target you to get to me."

When he sees your face fall, he rushes to placate you, and you try and hide your surprised delight. "That being said, I know of an underground doctor. Eccentric, but the best in the business. A man of his word. Perhaps you can complete your studies with him."

Elated, you can't suppress a smile anymore, launching forward to peck him on the cheek. When you finally realize the gravity of what you've done, imposed on your _**not-yet-husband** _without permission, your blood turns to ice.

You gasp, but Shiki-sama doesn't hear it, pressing fingertips to his cheek as if it would help him absorb your essence, make you a part of himself. Giving you a shaky smile, he praises you for the tea. 

 

Shiki-sama, you come to find in the next weeks, shatters your expectations of a top-ranking yakuza man.  For one thing, he's _gentle_. Whenever he speaks in your presence, his words are murmured, soft, as if approaching a doe ready to bolt in a heartbeat. 

He takes courtship seriously, an anomaly in these times, made all the more peculiar because of his... _profession_. Your nerves are frenetic, crackling with anxiety as you wait for the moment he tires with your coyness, the moment he throws you onto the floor and does whatever he pleases with you.

It never comes.

If anything, he's more concerned about touching you than you are. Curling a hair around your ear. Cupping your hands like they're precious gems. Fleeting and compassionate.

When he's gone for stretches at a time, you find yourself starting to miss him, starting to wonder what he does when he's not with you. Whenever he returns Shiki-sama never fails to greet you with flowers. Sometimes a sweet-smelling bouquet, wrapped in bright colors. Others, a blossom he handpicked and pressed into a book for safekeeping until he is reunited with you. But always, _**always**_ a flower, a living creature to present you with. 

When you finally work up the nerve to ask why, his response is simple, muted, mumbled to the walls.

"They remind me of you."

 

* * *

 

On a humid summer evening, your wedding is held before an audience of the Awakusu-Kai's _finest_. It's a small but overstated affair, hosted in a penthouse whose pristine, floor-to-ceiling windows give you a falcon's view of Tokyo. Shiki-sama even permits the attendance of your father and brother, albeit only after much,  _much_ convincing.

Under any other circumstances, you would have marveled at the enchanting garlands of lilies strung across the room, like gardens growing from the ceiling. Floating candles balancing on columns of water. 

All you can think about, however, is what will happen when the guests bid you farewell and finally clear out. Shiki-sama may be a patient man, but he is still a  _man._  As the night progresses, you struggle to cling to every last moment, but time slips by quicker than you would like. Before you know it, you find yourself in a dark suite, your husband watching you expectantly. 

You know full well what's supposed to happen, have read about it, have heard the yakuza wives snickering about how poorly they'll expect _you_ to perform. Easy criticisms to make, when they had their mothers to guide them beforehand. But you? Who could you possibly turn to? Who do you have, that would explain this situation to you? Your father? Your brother? Your fellow students? The _police_?

He's tearing off his shirt, revealing the many scars carved into his firm chest. Dark eyes devour you as you stand shaking in the moonlight, covered only by a lace slip that feels like it's made of glass. Your trembling hands struggle to tug the straps down your shoulders and you burst into a flood of tears, apologizing and stuttering and promising that you  _will_ fulfill your duty as a wife, _please don't hurt them_ because you will, you promise, and please don-

Calloused hands cup your jaw, tilting up your gaze and you think you can make out his blurry figure. "(F/N)-chan...your only _duty_ as my wife is to cherish the person who I married. To be gentle with her," Shiki-sama murmurs. "She is a tender soul."

At this, you're still fumbling and stammering and trying to blink away the tears, until he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. "We've had a long night. Why don't we turn in for now?"

And he takes your hand, leading you to a bed draped in rose petals but it's nothing like the horrors your mind had conjured all evening. Makes a pillow for you out of his bare chest. Strokes your cheek before bidding you goodnight. You're still watching him, wide-eyed from your perch, when he utters his last thoughts.

"Men of the yakuza marry for many reasons," he says, winding a hand through your hair. "Status. Avenues for money laundering. Producing heirs. Me? I suppose you could say a family is every orphan's dream."

The  _ **first lieutenant**_ of the Awakusu-Kai an _**orphan**_? This is news to you.

"How do you think I got into this business?" Shiki-sama says with a dark chuckle. "I was born into this world alone, no parents, no siblings. Clawed my way to the top of the streets that I called home. But all that time... I never stopped hoping for a world separate from the yakuza, and the right person to share it with, this secret other world."

With that, silence grows over the two of you. Never taking your eyes off of him, you brush a shy kiss onto his chest, his heartbeat pounding up into your lips. Cracking an eye open, he offers you a sleepy smile before settling back into the pillows. 

This man has a code of honor, you realize, as confusing though it might be. He truly wants a _partner_ for this life. A companion. 

You really think you could grow to **love** him.

Biting your lip, you tiptoe forward.

 _Emboldened_.

Dart across the sheets before covering his mouth with yours. Roused from sleep, he mumbles incoherently as you trail kisses down his neck, but it's starting to work. His skin heats, and from your vantage on top of him you can feel the powerful influence of your movements on him. 

"' _are you sure?"_ he slurs, breathless as he impatiently returns your favors.

You nod. Letting out a raspy laugh, he flips you over with a wolfish grin, sending you squealing.

 

* * *

 

The cherry red lipstick feels strange on your lips, your reflection seems foreign. The music from the foyer must be loud, if it's reaching all the way down here.

You're back in the boudoir within your wing of Haruya compound, but this time, the exile is self-imposed. For beyond the locked door to your wing, Shiki-sama holds a reception for his associates. You were meant to join him in welcoming the guests over forty minutes ago. Instead, you fussed over every possible chore you could think of simply to waste time. _No that shade of eyeshadow is too dark. Oops, I should redo my hair._ The truth is you're petrified, and something tells you the other Awakusu-Kai members won't be as understanding of your fear as Shiki-sama. 

 

_Kshhh_

 

It's a subtle sound, and you only manage to catch the splashing because the window overlying your courtyard is open. Chalking up to a particularly feisty koi, you return to rallying your courage.

 

**_KSHHHH_ **

 

It seems the koi are rioting. Except when you finally glance out the window, you see a strange, dark-haired man harassing the koi with pebbles.

 

 ** _Your_** koi. 

 

Gathering your robe, you dart out the door. "Pardon me, these quarters are off limits to guests!" you cry out, slippers rushing down the steps. "And please stop, you're disturbing the koi!"

 

_**Unnatural.** _

You halt in your tracks, paralyzed. They're positively arresting, these eyes of his. A rich, crimson hue, like autumn leaves. 

 

"Ah, my apologies~!" he says, bowing. "I was looking for a restroom, before stumbling onto this lovely little place!"

You're about to point him in the right direction, when you realize he must be lying. The door to your wing is barred by a card-reader. He couldn't possibly have stumbled in by accident. Either he swiped the card off of Shiki-sama or the bodyguards... or the more unnerving option: he found a way to sneak in past it.

"There are two restrooms back in the foyer," you respond firmly. "But again, this area is off-limits."

"Then why are _you_ here?" he returns, not missing a beat.

Your eyes widen at his audacity. This man is slippery, far too sharp-eyed to not know _**exactly**_ who you are: wife to one of the most powerful men in all of Ikebukuro. Nevertheless, this man may be an important associate of Shiki's, and so anger is your enemy. You decide to play along, jutting your chin out. "I am (F/N) Haruya, wife of Shiki Haruya, the current Wakagashira of the Awakusu-Kai _."_

His eyes widen in mock surprise, the echo of your previous expression. "My, my~! Didn't realize I was in the presence of the Moon-Flower of the Awakusu-Kai herself! That's quite an impressive title your husband has."

 _Moon-flower of the Awakusu-Kai?_ Is that what they're calling you now? Naming you after a beautiful but devastatingly transient blossom that can't even last the night? You file away this information for later.

"And  _ **who**_ might you be?"

He breaks out into a shark-like grin, as if he had been waiting for this _particular_ question for quite some time. "Izaya Orihara. Information-broker and close business partner of your husband, at your service."

 

This _Izaya_  makes no attempt to hide his careful scrutiny of you, crimson eyes slowly climbing down the plunging neckline of your loosely tied robe. Hastily, you fist it closed, coughing to get his attention. 

"Do forgive my curiosity, but where did you and Shiki-san meet?," he says, completely unperturbed. Fingering yet another pebble, he eyes your koi  _far_ too closely for your liking. "Don't believe I've seen you around before."

You're prepared for this much, at least. Should anyone ask about your identity, Shiki-sama instructed you to lie, for the safety of your family. "My father is Shiki- sama's business associate, much like you are."

He takes his time processing this information. Every so often, he twitches his wrist, as if to smite your precious koi with another pebble. Heart pounding, you lunge forward-

 

...but he always stops at the last minute, when you're only millimeters away. This baiting continues until you're outright glaring at him, abandoning any attempt to remain civil.

" _Really_?" he drawls, circling the pond like a predator. "Through my line of business I'm aware of- if not formally acquainted with _-_ most of Shiki-san's contacts myself... and yet I've never heard of your father."

"He's not from Tokyo," you reply, voice taut. Shiki-sama specializes in the firearm trade and illicit exotic animal trafficking, two industries that demand frequent travel and diverse business partners. Therefore, the lie about your father sounds entirely believable to you. 

"From outside Tokyo? And yet Shiki-san saw enough of him to become familiar with his daughter?" Izaya chirps, as if you're discussing the local elementary school soccer game. Leisurely, he rounds the pond, sidling up next to you as you glare at him from the corner of your eye. "Because for the many years I've enjoyed a partnership with him, Shiki-san _**always**_ insists on meeting with his contacts on his home turf. A safety precaution. How interesting that I've never managed to cross paths with your father!"

Training your gaze on the koi, you keep your voice even. "He's been out of the business for a while now. Elderly."

" _And yet,"_ the voice is a silky hiss in your ear, setting your skin on fire. You struggle not to squirm, to instead emanate a courage that you hardly feel. "Your father must have been somebody _incredibly_  important, for Shiki-san to seek his daughter's hand."

"I-i-suppose so," you say, crossing your arms as a pretext for occupying your jittery hands. Shiki-sama has insisted that you have the least amount of contact with his associates as possible. 

Now you know why.

Your paltry rescue attempt for the koi was foolish; this man, this **Izaya Orihara** could be armed, certainly **_dangerous_**. Mouth suddenly parched, you try and swallow as quietly as possible.

 

Izaya stays there for a while, hovering just behind you and you can't figure out why you've suddenly frozen up. His chest is a hair's breadth away from your shoulder blades, and you can practically  _feel_ its rise and fall with each breath. The information broker isn't even _doing_ anything _explicitly_ threatening, per se; no weapons drawn, no clenched fists, no raised voice. And yet, this strange man who just _effortlessly_  invaded your  _personal_ quarters can intimidate you into submission just by  _standing_ next to you. 

 

A slow, languid smile curls Izaya's lips, the shape of it searing the skin of your ear like a cattle brand.

 

Out of the blue he darts away from you, giving you a friendly wave. "Well goodnight (L/N)-san! Give the koi some band-aids!"

 

You start to stammer out a farewell, before it hits you.

 

You never gave him your maiden name. 

 

 


End file.
